


Moonbeam

by HeartlessMemo



Series: One Who Holds My Heart [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Friendship, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, firbolg/human relationship, study partners to lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-05-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 16:53:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,372
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24450148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HeartlessMemo/pseuds/HeartlessMemo
Summary: The reader and Master Firbolg are study partners and friends. She assumes the little crush she has on her companion is one-sided, but that changes one moonlit night in the Unknown Forest. Featuring: a first kiss and teasing by Fitzroy and Argo.
Relationships: Master Firbolg (The Adventure Zone)/Reader
Series: One Who Holds My Heart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765912
Comments: 6
Kudos: 14





	Moonbeam

**Author's Note:**

> Maybe the most adorable thing I've ever written. Pure...cute...fluff.

The firbolg lets out a mighty grumble and buries his fists into his wild mane of hair as he considers the answer.

“C’mon, big guy,” you encourage him, swinging your feet up onto the edge of the table between you. A distinctly soporific throat-clearing from the stacks catches your attention and you drop your feet back onto the floor at a glare from the librarian, Sabour. You flash a sheepish smile in his direction before returning your attention to the open text book in your lap.

“ _Liquidity Ratio_ ,” you repeat.

“Li-qui-di-ty….ratio!” he echoes in a voice that sounds borderline-pained. “This is the ratio of a firm’s liquid assets to their...li-a-bil-i-ties! It measures the ability of a company to fulfill its...financial...obligations.”

You let out a delighted whoop that has Sabour shushing you again, but you don’t care. You reach across the table and grab the firbolg’s hands, your face lit up with a dopey grin.

“Yes! You got it!” you cry, slamming the book shut with finality. “No more studying! Tonight your name is... _One Who is Going to Ace His Accounting Exam_!”

“Is...a bit of a mouthful,” the firbolg jokes and it feels like he’s conjured a warming flame in your chest. 

You squeeze his forearms with your slender fingers, looking up ( _up, way up--gosh, your friend is tall_ ) and meeting his eyes with a smile that dimples your cheeks.

“Well, then, I’ll call you, _Makes Me Smile_.”

Your cheeks burn with embarrassment as soon as the words leave your lips but the firbolg’s eyes crinkle with his own grin as he responds, “Is nice...to have friends. You. Fitzroy. Argo. I...feel like... I have found a new clan.”

His words send another wave of warm affection to your heart. Even if he only ever thinks of you as a friend...even if there’s no chance of him ever returning your secret feelings...it’s worth it to make him smile.

\---

“Well...it doesn’t compare to the luxury vintages I’m accustomed to--The Maplecourt Estate boasts a truly magnificent vineyard, have I ever mentioned?--but it is... _potent_. I’ll give you that,” Fitzroy eyes the amber liquid in his cup, the fizzing bubbles of the champagne glowing in the firelight.

“Aye, it’s good stuff!” Argo pipes in from across the fire, downing the last few drops from his own cup and leaning over for a refill from the leather skein.

“Well, we needed something worthy of the celebration!” you exclaim, sipping from your own cup and shyly leaning into the bulk of your study partner as you cast a happy, prideful glance up at him. “We passed!”

The firbolg smiles down at you from his place beside you on the fallen log. You’re in your spot--a clearing on the edge of the Unknown Forest where the four of you have taken to meeting on the weekends when you’re not out on real-world assignments. The champagne bubbles fizz merrily in your stomach and you feel the pleasant, giddy lightness of alcohol diminishing your inhibitions. You let your head fall against his arm, angling your body toward him and snuggling into his warmth.

He ducks his head to catch your gaze with an inquisitive grumble from deep in his chest.

You take a long gulp of your drink before explaining, “It’s a little chilly.”

The firbolg turns to look at the roaring fire in the middle of the clearing with a quizzical expression. He catches Fitzroy’s knowing, smirky gaze from across the flames. 

“The lady has a chill, Bud! Don’t be ungallant--put your arm around her!” Fitzroy winks at you and you might burn up at being so transparent. Apparently everyone can see right through you. Everyone except... _him_ , of course. 

You lean away a bit as he shifts, wrapping one, massive arm around you and gently resting it over your shoulders.

“Like...this…?” he mutters, eyes flicking from you to Fitzroy to Argo, seeking guidance. Your friend has learned so much about living with those outside his own kind...but he still has moments of wobbly uncertainty. He leans down to speak into your ear in an approximation of a whisper that is--actually--perfectly audible to everyone in the clearing, “Is this...okay?”

For a few seconds you’re incapable of speech. His face is an inch away from yours, your breath mingles and if you were to lean forward just a tiny bit your lips would touch. His eyes--the same muddled bluish-grey as his skin--flick over your face as he awaits your answer.

You clear your throat and offer him a shy smile, “Yeah, this is okay.”

“K-I-S-S-I-N--Hey!!” Argo’s teasing singsong is interrupted when Fitzroy launches a fireball that misses hitting him in the face by mere inches.

“Aaargh!--sorry, my man, that was supposed to be a snowball. I’m still--um-- _centering myself within my magic_ , as Festo says.”

Argo gives him a mutinous glare, muttering under his breath, “Wasn’t the crab supposed to take care of that?”

“It’s a JOURNEY!!” Fitzroy shouts with a dramatic swish of his velvet cloak. 

You snort into your cup, dissolving into giggles that you try to muffle by finishing off your drink. Fitzroy rolls his eyes and lets out an aggrieved huff.

You cut the tension before this can devolve into one of Fitzroy’s hissy fits, “Hey, I get it, Fitzroy. Everyone knows I suck at magic. I can’t even focus a cantrip let alone rip out an awesome fireball like that!”

The noble barbarian preens at your praise and--feeling charitable--gestures towards your mountainous companion, “If you want to see something impressive you should ask Bud, here, to cast _Moonbeam_! He took out two floors of imps with that little beauty.”

You feel the rumble of the firbolg’s laughter before any sound falls from his lips, “Mmm...you are...flattering me, Fitzroy.”

It’s not long before the three of you are chanting in sync, “ _Moon-beam! Moon-beam! Moon-beam!_ ”

The firbolg finally stands, moving to the edge of the clearing with a groan of assent. 

“In...corrigible!” he calls back to you. 

You watch as the lumbering giant kin turns inward, bowing his head and holding his hands before him, palms upward. There’s a moment of utter stillness. Even the fire’s flames seem to freeze for a split second as the air around the firbolg quickens with the promise of magical energy. Pale blue sparks appear floating above his palms and in the next second a silvery cylinder of pure moonlight appears in the air in front of him. He raises his head, meeting your gaze with the smallest hint of a smile on his lips when he catches the look of wonder on your face.

Fitzroy and Argo clap their hands and yell praise, but you’re struck silent by the beauty of the firbolg’s magic. You stand, walking over to his side without taking your eyes off the silver light. 

“It’s beautiful!” you remark, reaching out a hand and tracing the air around the cylinder. 

The firbolg grabs your wrist, his meaty fingers wrapping around your forearm easily. He pulls you back against him and away from the beam of light.

“Beautiful,” he rumbles over your head, tucking you into his chest protectively, “but dangerous.”

You turn in his arms, leaning back to catch his gaze. His eyes reflect the moonbeam’s illumination as he looks back at you. 

“Moonlit Eyes,” you murmur, taking a breath for courage before reaching up to trace his rounded cheek with the tips of your fingers. He leans into the touch, nuzzling his face against your small palm.

“Mmm?” he questions, closing his eyes to your touch.

“That’s your name tonight,” you answer, tugging at the collar of his homespun tunic until he bends down to your level. “Moonlit Eyes.”

You’d thought that maybe a firbolg’s kiss would be rough and overwhelming, judging by the intimidating bulk of your dear one. You should have known, though. _Bud, Moonlit Eyes, Makes Me Smile, One Who Comforts Pegasi_...his kiss could only ever be as soft and gentle as true moonlight.

Distantly, you catch the buzzing laughter of Fitz and Argo from the other side of the clearing.

“K-I-S-S-I-N-G!!”


End file.
